


More Courage to Live

by CuddlyKoala



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sith Anakin, Suitless Vader, Vaderwan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 09:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10896810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyKoala/pseuds/CuddlyKoala
Summary: Anakin gets taken in by Darth Sidious when he’s still a boy on Tatooine. A young Sith Lord trying to survive in a galaxy quickly descending into war, he meets Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, tea provider and all around mother hen. That’s not exactly improving his life expectancy, though.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from Marcel Camus' _A Happy Death ___  
> Thanks to lethalsaber for betaing!  
>  (Gorgeous) art by spiritoffox

There is nothing more annoying than sand. Nothing in the whole galaxy. Well, maybe Watto. And the Hutts. But those can change. Can be somehow… influenced. Sand, on the other hand… Well, there isn’t anything else to do but endure.

Enduring is the constant lament of Anakin Skywalker’s miserable slave existence. One day, he swears, one day, he and his mother will be free. One day, they’ll leave that pathetic dustball and start a new life elsewhere. Preferably very far from Tatooine. In the meantime, they have to survive.

The day the man in black arrives in Mos Espa should have been the happiest of his life. It’s not. Sure, he’s no longer a slave. But. But that doesn’t mean he’s free. That doesn’t mean his mother is free. Or perhaps she is. She is dead. Killed by the man in black.

He cries bitter tears over her loss until his first beating. Then he learns not to cry. Ever.

Anakin Skywalker is the rebellious sort. He tries to fight back, again and again. It never works.

So he endures.

He survives.

[Cover art](http://spiritoffox.tumblr.com/post/160626521640/art-for-cuddlykoalas)


	2. A Jedi and a Sith walk into a tea room

The wind beats his face under the deep hood. He can feel his skin beginning to chafe and his lips about to crack. He stretches them into a smile and the delicate skin splits. He licks the small drop of blood and smiles again. His prey is there. Finally, after a whole planet’s cycle, he has arrived. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, senses extended. _There he is._ A bright presence in the Force, a sense of balance the likes of which he had rarely encountered before. He’s going to enjoy killing him.

When he walks through the old town, a stranger in a city bustling with life, the presence follows him. It’s strange enough that he stops several times to peek above his shoulder. It doesn’t yield any result. Not that it should, but still… how does the Jedi manage this? It’s almost as if he sensed Anakin’s first probe and kept the connection open. Which would be beyond foolish, even for a Jedi. Therefore, it’s probably not what he did.

Then again, Jedi are not reputed to be particularly intelligent.

He walks towards the highest platform, ready to fight. There is no need to do this in the middle of a crowd and get everyone killed in the backlash. Collateral damages are something Vader would rather avoid. They attract attention and that is never a good thing.

The wind is even more biting here, at the top of the city. The young Sith wraps himself in the Force and lets it warm him, soft song and raging tempest both.

Unsurprisingly, the Jedi follows, not long after.

Their cloaks fall down at the same time. The Jedi is handsome, Vader decides. Deep blue eyes, strong jaw, red hair, neatly trimmed beard. He carries himself with the ever annoying sense of serenity of the Jedi and his smile is kind.

Vader reels, hand tight around the guard of his light saber. _A kind smile._ Either that Jedi is very stupid or he has reasons to feel very confident.

He smiles back. His own grin isn’t kind. It’s full of teeth and twisted. Oddly, it doesn’t make the kind smile disappear.

_How annoying._

They strike at the same time. Anakin parries then follows by a slashing attack he has perfected over the years. It’s virtually unstoppable.

His blade meets a blue streak of light. He blinks and steps back, lightsaber raised in his classic defensive move. _All right_. The Jedi is good. Maybe he has reasons to feel confident.

Suddenly, Vader is a lot less confident. The Jedi is still smiling at him, kindly. It’s soft and a bit… sad?

They both step out of each other’s range.

“What’s your name?”

It’s said conversationally. The Sith hesitates. What’s the harm in giving a name? The Jedi will hopefully be dead soon. And even if Vader should fail in killing him-

He licks a new drop of blood at his lower lip.

The Jedi follows the gesture with curious eyes.

Vader shrugs. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I care?”

Vader can’t read the Jedi’s tone.

“Was that a question? It’s not very convincing if you make it a question. Unless, of course, you care about putting a name on the trophy you intend to bring back to the Jedi Council. In which case, I’m sorry, but you aren’t bringing back anything.”

The red-headed Jedi gives him a genuine smile.

“We’re fighting. But we don’t have to. In any case, I’d like to know your name.”

Vader hesitates a second.

“Anakin,” he finally says, with a confidence he’s not experiencing. The Force wraps itself around him, caressing him with the weight of his decision. It’s not bad, it’s not good. It’s neutral, in a way. Like it’s putting in his hands all the decisions to come as a result.

He grips his lightsaber harder and tells himself Vader is a name better suited to the shadows.

The Jedi blinks then nods, face smoothed by seriousness.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Anakin nods back and resumes a fighting stance, low guard, this time. Maybe it’ll put a quicker end to this comedy. He just needs the Jedi to attack first.

He doesn’t. Just stays there, looking relaxed and composed. Utterly serene.

It makes Vader grit his teeth in frustration.

“You realise we’re supposed to be fighting, you know?” he throws, almost carelessly. “What would your dear Council say if they were watching you refusing to fight me?”

“They’d probably commend me on my patience,” there is the faintest hint of irony under the Jedi’s words.

Somehow, Vader doesn’t have any trouble believing it.

“We could have tea, instead,” the man offers.

Vader splutters, unable to believe his ears. Tea. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. A Jedi and a Sith walk into a tea room and one of them… He’s unable to find an ending to that one. It has never happened and never will. It’s an intrinsic impossibility. The Jedi’s com rings, a sharp sound breaking his contemplation. He can’t hear what’s being said over the wind but it doesn’t matter. Soon the Jedi looks at him, an almost apologetic smile on his lips.

“I’m afraid I must go. I hope we’ll meet again, Anakin.”

No one has used that name in over a decade. No one except his bearer and he had almost forgotten it. It sounds good when said aloud.

Kenobi has vanished from sight and his Force presence is deliberately muted.

Vader shakes his head, ashamed and angry. He was supposed to kill the kriffing Jedi, not make small talk with him. He’s empty-handed and unsettled. That’s just wonderful. Best way to face his master. He isn’t going to be happy about it. He powers his lightsaber down and walks slowly back down to the city and its lights flickering in the wind.

He spends another cycle on the planet but the Jedi doesn’t come back. It’s just as well.

***

As expected, his master doesn’t take the news very graciously. He never does and Vader doesn’t expect him to. The Sith apprentice spends several hours writhing under the silent torture, confined within his mind, and crawls back to his room, barely conscious. Once he manages to get in bed and close his eyes, the first image to spring to his exhausted mind is that of the Jedi and his calm expression and soothing mind. No matter what he tries, it doesn’t leave. Unsurprisingly, meditation doesn’t help. He finally falls into a fitful sleep, full of nightmares and nonsense.

When he wakes, he trains harder. There is no way he’s going to let some Jedi Knight have the upper hand on him.

He is so focused he barely registers when his master informs him they’re leaving for Coruscant. He realises his mistake once the never-ending city’s lights blink at him. He tucks the Force around him, tight and warm, careful not to let any of his signature seep out of his shields.

He isn’t going to let his misgivings stop him from enjoying the planet. He’s never been here before. And his master seems in such a good mood…

“Master?”

“Yes, Vader?” It’s distracted. Clearly, his focus is elsewhere.

“Am I to accompany you on your business?”

“No. You’re free to do some exploring, if you want. Though I’d like you to go to the Senate first with me. I’m sure you’ll find it an educational experience.”

Educational? _Huh._

***

It is. Educational, that is. The building is grand and oppressive and the sheer number of people pressing on his shields makes his head hurt. They part ways at the entrance and he’s left wandering the place by himself. Suddenly exploring on his own sounds a lot less appealing.

“Anakin?”

He whips around, ‘saber in hand, though unpowered. He isn’t going to reveal himself in front of the whole Senate. He isn’t that stupid, no matter what his master says.

The Jedi sounds genuinely happy and a wide grin is breaking his face.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could return the question, Obi-Wan,” he emphasizes the name with relish, savouring his first opportunity to say it aloud. It’s a nice name.

“I was on guard duty until ten minutes ago.”

“I’m on an educational trip,” he replies. What else can he say? _My master is on the planet and I’m keeping him company?_

He watches in wonder as the Jedi’s smile morphs into a laugh, eyes bright and teeth gleaming among his beard.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you,” Obi-Wan apologises before Vader even thinks to take offense. “It’s just… you make it sound like a school trip. Sith school trip. Are you going to get a test about what you learnt afterwards, too?”

“Probably,” Vader nods a bit stiffly. He can tell the Jedi is being sarcastic. It doesn’t make his answer any less true. His master does have a fondness for lessons of all sorts. Tests. Having his apprentice failing them and punishing him. Come to think of it, he shouldn’t stay here.

“Will we have tea, this time? I know a nice place, no one will bother us.”

Anakin just stays rooted to the floor. It doesn’t sound any more credible this time.

Obviously, his silence is mistaken for consent because next thing he knows, the Jedi is leading him by the hand outside the Senate and into the lower levels.

The walk is quiet. Even their boots don’t resonate under the high-arched ceilings. Vader spares a smile to the thought. It would make for a perfect dramatic effect. Counterproductive though, considering it’s not in their best interest to be caught in the other’s company.

They emerge from the building and he blinks in front of the blinding light. Anakin recovers quickly and spins around, trying to guess where his improbable companion intends to lead him to.

None of his guesses come true. The Jedi beckons him to a ground level street, obviously leading even lower. It’s dark and frankly, not very welcoming. Anakin hesitates, unsure he read Obi-Wan correctly. He doesn’t seem threatening, but then again… when he is hiding, his master doesn’t look very threatening either. Anakin knows better.

“Come on! What’s taking you so long?” There is a hint of impatience in the Jedi’s voice now, playful, not angry.

“Oh, do forgive me if I’m not too keen on following you down the dark bowels of Coruscant,” he doesn’t try to keep the sarcasm out if his voice. Using it like a shield.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow.

“Here I thought the darks bowels were more your trade than mine.”

Anakin presses his lips together. He’s wary, not a coward and that’s more likely the next accusation ready to fall out from the Jedi’s lips. Which is, in all likelihood, its own trap. He looks at Obi-Wan thoughtfully, extends his senses. The Force doesn’t emit any kind of negativity.

He makes a split second decision.

“Lead on, Jedi.”

The smile Obi-Wan sends him back is almost blinding.

The walk isn’t so unpleasant, after all. A bit dark, a bit squalid and certainly not a favored place to spend a holiday. It doesn’t feel unsafe, though Anakin wonder if that might have to do with the company. He scoffs internally. A Sith feeling safe in the company of a Jedi. That might have been the joke he had tried to develop earlier on. Of course, it’s highly likely he’ll end up being the butt of said joke.

He tries to muster some arrogance, fails. For all his Master always goes on and on about the superiority of the Sith, Anakin has never developed any sense of it. Being brought down and tortured repeatedly does have that kind of effect. He lives to serve his Master.

Idly, he wonders if the Jedi undergo the same kind of training. Judging by Obi-Wan’s easy smile, he doubts it.

Said Jedi doesn’t say a word, merely walks at a brisk pace. Obviously, he doesn’t want to give anyone a chance to recognize him. Or he doesn’t feel safe around here. Which, Anakin concludes, examining his surroundings, isn’t an entirely stupid way to feel.

Soon, Obi-Wan slows down and stops in front of a dimly lit shop. The writing above the door isn’t in any kind of script Anakin recognizes. The Jedi turns around and makes an inviting gesture. In front of Vader’s silent refusal to move first, he sighs softly, shrugs minutely and enters the shop.

Anakin reaches with the Force. Nothing seems amiss. If anything, the Force here feels settled, instead of tempestuous as it usually is. Calm. Just like Obi-Wan, actually and he can definitely see why the Jedi likes the place. It decides him to follow the older man’s footsteps.

They are sat in a corner, none of them exposing their back to the door. Anakin appreciates the choice given.

Obi-Wan orders for them both after side-glancing at a puzzled Anakin. The young Sith is lost. Not an unusual state of affair, to be honest, especially these days. He just had no idea there were so many kind of teas. And apparently so many ways to drink them. The cup he is offered is medium-sized, of a pleasant, neutral brown color. The beverage is lighter-colored than he expected and the smell is flowery but not acidic. He raises the cup to his mouth and takes an experimental sip. And scalds his tongue. He promptly puts back the cup on the table with a clink and an outraged hiss.

“Patience isn’t your strong suit, Anakin, is it?” the Jedi comments with a not so hidden laugh in his voice.

He would make some kind of vicious retort but he doesn’t trust his tongue not to fail him, burnt as it is. A caustic comment delivered with a lisp doesn’t quite have the same impact. Instead, he settles for a dark glance at the Jedi.

Obi-Wan raises his own cup and blows gently on his tea, then takes a small sip.

“See? It’s better when you don’t burn yourself on it.” It should sound patronizing. Somehow, it doesn’t.

Anakin follows suit and finds the tea quite pleasant in his mouth. He hasn’t tasted anything so good in a long, long time. Maybe the last time was when his Master was still bent on teaching him good manners. When his Master still had time to teach Anakin and not just punish him for his failings. He sighs and puts the though aside. He is there and he intends to savour the moment, present company notwithstanding.

“So, what do you think?” The question sounds genuine.

Vader shrugs.

“I like it well enough.”

“I’m glad, then.” The Jedi puts his cup back on the table and sets his hands flat on it, obviously taking pain to reassure Anakin he isn’t a threat. The young man leans back and wraps his hand around the cup. It’s only polite to extend the same courtesy, he reasons.

“Why did you take me here?” It’s a real question, one Anakin would really like an answer to.

The Jedi seems to consider his words for a moment.

“Why are we having tea in good intelligence or why here specifically?”

Anakin tilts his head to the side. He hadn’t considered the last one, but it actually is important. He can sense.

He nods.

“Both.”

He can hear a shuffle under the table. Obi-Wan is crossing his legs.

“We’re sharing tea because I want to get to know you. You’re not exactly the kind of Sith one meets every day. And here specifically… Well, I like the place and I thought the Force here would suit you.”

It’s as good an answer as any and Anakin finds no complain with it.

“You’re the first Jedi I’ve met.” The confession falls from his mouth without being prompted. Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow.

“Oh? And what do you think, then?”

It feels like a test. Vader can sense his shoulders starting to retract on themselves, trying to make himself smaller. He shakes his head, annoyed with himself and forces his back straighter.

“You’re not quite as I expected.” It seems important, all of a sudden, to be honest.

“How so?” He can sense the curiosity is sincere.

“You’re not trying to kill me, for a start. “

“Always a positive point,” Obi-Wan jokes with a strange smile. Is it sad? Anakin watches the emotions ripple across the man’s face, so different from what he has seen on him previously. It’s fascinating, really. “Though… I might point out you aren’t trying to kill me either.”

Vader doesn’t answer. He drinks the last of his tea and sets the cup back on the table with a sharp sound.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked for a teapot, but I wasn’t sure you’d like it,” Obi-Wan apologises, as if it matters.

Anakin never knows what he could have thought to say to that, because his com beeps, shrill and unwanted. He covers it reflexively as if it would make the summon disappear.

It doesn’t.

He raises to his feet and forces a smile out to the Jedi.

“Thank you.” He doesn’t specify what he’s thanking him for. He has a feeling the other will understand anyway.

The Jedi nods and Anakin walks slowly to the door.

“Wait!” The call is soft yet insistent. He turns around and finds a small package pressed in his hand.

“It’s a bit of that brew for you. Prepare it with very hot water. Don’t burn yourself.”

Anakin accepts the package with a quiet nod, lets it disappear under his cloak and spins around towards the exit. Better not be late.

He’s late anyway and gets a lashing for it. He barely notices.


	3. The Sith slaughters the whole assembly (at least the intent is there)

Vader is unsettled. It stretches into the following days and colours his every thought, his every move. It sends anxiety coursing through his blood and coiling around his stomach. Thankfully his shields are more than just decent, a side effect of having Darth Sidious for a master. His methods of teaching may be a little harsh, they are nonetheless…effective.

He is itching for a mission, anything, really, to take his mind off the multiple questions that run through it. Why did Obi-Wan try to befriend him? Why is it working so well? What is the Jedi getting out of this all?

Unfortunately, there is no respite from them, as his Master doesn’t have anything to entrust to him. If he’s entirely fair, it’s probably related to the incident when he failed to kill or capture said Jedi. Failure and more generally incompetence are the main things which can majorly tick off his Master. Vader is getting a little worried about it, even though his Master hasn’t said anything on the matter recently.

It might just be the calm before the storm. In any case, it does nothing to settle the young Sith’s nerves. One thing leading to another, he finds himself in the little kitchen, pot in hand, slowly filling with water.

Very hot water, Obi-Wan had said. What constitutes very hot water? Anakin watches the water with puzzled eyes and tssks aloud at the poor instruction. Trust a Jedi to give vague directions. He looks at the little bubbles making their way towards the surface of the water. Surely that counts as very hot? He shrugs, aware of how silly the whole scene must look to an outsider.

He pours the water over the leaves, watching it darkening. What if it tastes bad? What if he never manages to replicate the process?

He shuts that train of thought quickly. It’s not like it matters, after all.

_Of course, it doesn’t._

He raises the cup to his lips and takes a cautious sip. It’s…not quite what it was the first time, but not awfully far from it either.

All in all, a decent cup of tea.

It reminds him of another place, another time, another company.

Well, the lack of company doesn’t diminish the flavor. He drinks slowly and wraps his hands around the cup as he has seen Obi-Wan do. The warmth is…comforting, he decides.

Of course, that’s the moment the bond he shares with his Master flares to life, signaling a summon.

***

It’s a mission, at last.

The planet he is sent to is freezing. Hoth-freezing. Vader has never gotten used to the cold and sees no reason to. It’s dreadful and serves no purpose whatsoever. He tightens his parka around him and trudges forth in the thick snow. Everything is dark and cold and decidedly atrocious. Like his mood. Good thing he is meant to kill a lot of people.

It doesn’t diminish his post mission self loathing session. The one his Master must never learn about. Vader is decently certain he has managed to hide it successfully.

Maybe some tea would help.

 He finds himself sitting in the kitchen, watching his water heating slowly. He is pouring it over the leaves when his Master’s familiar presence grows closer and closer. Too late to disappear. He focuses on his cup, careful not to drop anything then sets precisely everything back in its place, almost fastidious. He can feel his Master watching the scene curiously.

“You seem to have developed quite the taste for tea, lately, my apprentice.” The comment is noncommittal, a simple observation. Vader knows better.

“Yes, I happened upon a tea house when I was visiting Coruscant. Bought something on a whim, and indeed developed a taste for it.”

There, it doesn’t sound as if he had something to hide, does it?

His Master hums, an acknowledgement or perhaps a comment on his apprentice questionable taste. Perhaps one Vader is meant to decipher. He doesn’t even try.

“It’s quite an obscure blend you found.”

The Sith curses internally and checks his shields by reflex.

“Recommended by the owner of the place.”

“I see.” Vader gets the unpleasant impression he does see.

Spurred by instinct, he offers “Do you want a cup, Master?”

Coldness washes over his Master’s face and he rises from the chair he had taken.

“No thank you, my apprentice. I have no fondness for the beverage.”

He is gone and the young Sith has no idea what happened.

On the other hand, his Master has been gone for a long time already.

***

It becomes something of a ritual after a mission. He tries and forgets what he did, what he saw, tries and fails to meditate and goes to the kitchen for a brew.

His supply is swiftly diminishing and he should buy some more. Finding out the name would be a good start. Or perhaps he could try something else.

His next mission takes him to an Outer Rim planet, one which name isn’t even recorded in the databases, only a set of coordinates. For once, he isn’t explicitly supposed to kill anyone, merely sow the seeds of discords among the locals, make them less trusting of the Republic’s latest efforts to bring them in its folds.

Shouldn’t be too hard, even if politics are far from his area of expertise. Still, one does not apprentice to Senator Palpatine without picking up a few things on the road, even if only as a matter of survival.

He walks into the capital city, browses the market to get a feel for the mood. Indeed, people are restless, on edge. Maybe it’s going to be simpler than he expected.

He comes back to his ship to change for the evening. There is a feast expecting him and he should be prepared to play the part. If it means dressing up a bit…well Anakin has no objection to it. Baggy Sith robes aren’t exactly the height of fashion. The outfit he has chosen for the evening, on the other hand… he knows he isn’t great beauty but he can be charming, an asset his Master had him play so often he slips into it effortlessly.

The reception is like any reception on a backwater planet. Great attention to food, poor entertainment. He mingles, has a few words with everyone, gets to know his marks, leaves a few promises of further discussion with the more interesting ones. His lips hurt from smiling.

He turns around to walk to the next group when a warm hand settles on his shoulder without warning. He whips back to the owner only to stop dead in his tracks.

How in all Sith hells did he not notice his presence?

“I shield heavily,” Obi-Wan replies, as if it explains everything.

Vader bites his lower lip and frowns. Did he say that aloud or are his own shields worse than he thought?

“It was plain on your face, dear one,” the Jedi answers the unspoken question.

_Dear one? What the kriffing Sith hell?_

He doesn’t reply. Better not to make a scene right now.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses instead.

“The same thing as you, I should suppose. Sway the opinion of the local government in the favor of whom I serve,” Obi-Wan answers imperturbably.

Anakin splutters then takes a deep breath. Nothing good will come out of a public fight.

“You look wonderful, by the way, Anakin.”

The young Sith doesn’t know if it’s the praise or the use of his name that does it, but it feels good. Not inappropriate, even though it obviously is.

He nods. “You don’t look half bad yourself. The Jedi attire suits you well.”

There is a hint of a grin on Obi-Wan’s face.

“I think so too.”

It’s all well and good. They aren’t killing each other in public at least, but how is he going to accomplish his mission now the Jedi have sent one of their own here? Everyone knows their reputation does half the job. Of course, killing him would probably make the Republic withdraw their offer which would solve his problem.

This option doesn’t bear consideration. In addition, his Master would probably not thank him for kicking the beast in the shin before he is ready to do so. He wonders who he is trying to convince here. Ah well, he should hone his arguments _. Just in case._

“You shouldn’t be here,” he tries.

The grin disappears.

“Why?” he questions softly.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re both trying to achieve opposite goals. I will do everything in my power to succeed and there might be…collateral damage, should you choose to pursue your own mission.” He delivers it coldly and matter-of-factly. It’s nothing but the truth of course, but the words taste sour on his tongue.

Obi-Wan nods calmly.

“I know. On the other hand, aren’t we past the threats, Anakin?”

_Are we?_

Vader tilts his head and considers the question. He’d like to say yes…but that would be rather unwise.

Instead he turns on his heels and leaves the Jedi. He won’t deal with him right now.

The rest of the evening is a blur. He must say and do all the right things since no one makes or even thinks anything of his distraction.

When he finally makes it to bed, his sleep is troubled by flashes and visions, none of them making any sense.

***

The next day sees a strengthening of Vader’s resolve.

He attends meetings, with enough patience to start qualifying as a Jedi and has lunch with repulsive politicians. He makes calls and pours his Master’s honeyed words in their ears. He doesn’t have a talent for politics but he does have one for charming people.

Surprisingly enough, his path doesn’t cross Kenobi’s.

He winds back in the town’s center, exhausted and itchy. He walks for a while, trying to rid himself of the feeling. Night is starting to fall when he arrives in front of a shop bordered by deep red fabric. The material swaying gently in the wind catches his attention and he examines the display. Then looks again.

It’s very obviously a tea house.

On impulse, he enters the place, triggering a cascading chime which makes him wince. So much for discretion.

The owner is a female whose race he can’t ascertain. She carries herself with an air of quiet confidence and almost startles him when she asks him what he wishes for.

“Why don’t you surprise us?” a gentle voice answers.

This time, Anakin does startle. He doesn’t have the time to consider the situation as the woman offers a broad smile.

“I’ll offer you, gentlemen, a specialty of the house. Please sit down and enjoy.”

Obi-Wan spurs Anakin towards a seat with a hand to his elbow.

They sit in silence for a while. The woman brings their brew and they pour in silence.

The brew is good. Delicious even. Woodsy but not too heavy. Anakin resolves to buy some. A good stock actually and maybe something else. Who knows when he’ll find something of that quality again.

He turns to the Jedi.

“So,” he starts, “how is it going for you?”

Obi-Wan sends him a flashing smile back.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Vader decides not to head the sarcasm.

“Actually I would.”

“You could join me, you know.”

There is an earnestness in the Jedi’s voice that stops any readymade retort Anakin could have. What does that mean, actually?

He settles for not saying anything, merely watching Obi-Wan with cold eyes. That, he knows he can do quite well.

The blond man shakes his head, never departing himself from his smile.

“It is a serious offer, Anakin. Maybe not now, but one day, you might find yourself …dissatisfied with your teachings. Perhaps that day you could consider…switching side?”

It’s Anakin’s turn to shake his head, incredulously.

“The only times a Sith has left the dark side has been through death. You may not have noticed, but the Sith aren’t exactly known for being a merciful bunch of people.”

He had tried for non sarcastic. That’s not an unmitigated success.

“I may have noticed though, that you refer to the Sith as if you weren’t one of them.”

Vader’s blood turns cold in his veins. It must show on his face because the Jedi raises his hands soothingly.

“I’m not accusing you of anything. Merely stating my observation.”

Anakin shakes his head again, too fast. It makes the room spin around him.

“One does not leave the Sith, except through death.” He reiterates.

“There is no death, only the Force,” Obi-Wan retorts, as serene as ever.

“Maybe so. Right now, I’m not in any hurry to find out who is right.”

The Jedi lets out a laugh. It’s light and melodious.

“I’m not either, to tell you the truth.”

Anakin does not quite know how to answer that. He settles for taking a sip of his tea. It’s gone lukewarm. He grimaces and reaches for the teapot. A hand shoots out before he can touch it and wraps around the handle. He watches in fascination the warm liquid pouring inside his cup, steam rising in intricate billows. He inhales deeply, trying to get a sense of this particular tea’s scent.

They don’t exchange another word until they are done with the content of the teapot.

They both buy a package of it, tight leaves pressed together. Vader thinks back to his Master, his lips a thin line against his cold face and turns to the lady with his most charming smile.

“Do you have any recommendation?”

She nods and tilts her head to the side, as if studying him. After a few seconds, she turns on her heels and reaches for the shelves. She draws two boxes and prepares three neatly made packages.

Anakin watches silently, wondering what she intends to do. From Obi-Wan’s puzzled face, he isn’t the only one. Cautiously, he brushes against her mind to get a feel of her surface thoughts.

He feels only earnestness, desire to please and… to be helpful?

He mulls this over then bites his lower lip to repress his laugh. He takes the packages, pays and adds a gentle suggestion of being pleased to his thanks then leaves the tea room with an quiet sigh. It was warm, comfortable and welcoming.

He turns to Obi-Wan who seemed ready to take his leave and presses the second package in his hands. He doesn’t offer an explanation, doesn’t say goodbye.

They are enemies, after all.

***

In the end, they both fail their mission. The planet won’t join the Republic but they won’t give any support to Vader’s Master.

Anakin has the unpleasant impression the locals got a good look at the two of them and decided it would be everyone’s loss to pit them against one another.

He can’t disagree with them.

He stands in front of his ship, focused on running pre flight diagnostics when a tingle resonates against his mind. He turns around, unsurprised to find Obi-Wan Kenobi across the spaceport next to his own ship. A sad excuse for a shuttle. It makes Anakin wince, despite his anger at himself. At least, he gets good transportation.

The Jedi lifts his hand in a wordless salute. Anakin answers in kind before entering the ship. Perhaps it was genuine, perhaps it was a challenge. He has no idea and is in no hurry to find out.

He reclines against the airlock and represses the urge to hide his face in his hands.

He is losing control of the situation fast.

He runs a hand through his hair and hisses in anger. He never had the control in the first place.

He won’t ever get it.


End file.
